The Devil And The Mirror

As he sat, he bent his neck down toward

A drenchèd floor and gazed with love abhorred

Into himself, framed with black murk, he stared.

The pool stared back, fiendish. There stooped, ensared

Was he, gazing deep. No ripple moved still

Waters while he watched, no echoes did trill

About his lair then, no breath hung forlorn

Beside either of them. Yet o the scorn.

Faded shrieks still called out behind sad eyes.

What torture indescribable, arise

And read carefully, for the language which

I need has ne’er yet been uttered. A rich,

Yet vulgar molestation ran thick ‘hind

Rampant memories. Then the all-maligned

Things dashed about the sky when he screamed mourn-

Filled and venomous. Into the night scorn

Sped in her lover’s arms. Wrath whipped her through

The air, weaving ‘tween forgotten stars, true

And merciless when he lashed her down at

The floor, breaking her apart. He still sat,

Faded shrieks still called out behind sad eyes.

Suddenly a flame blazed infernous-like

And he beat his ravaged wings. The harsh strike

Tore the air apart, and as he looked down

At his wicked self, the waters boiled. Frown-

Bearing and pulsing he thrashed about, mad-

Consumed and frantic, and in his rough-clad

Lunacy he beat his wings once more, hard

And brisk. Then he rushed into the sky, scarred

And dreadful, to hide behind a laughing white moon.

  ©Daegal